Midwinter Cheer
by bekett
Summary: Beka is sick during Midwinter and Rosto is coerced into keeping her company. He'd rather be elsewhere, but finds himself unable to stay away. A Christmas holiday fic, RostoBeka, spoilers for Terrier


Disclaimer: Terrier (c) Tamora Pierce

* * *

_Beka_

"M'sorry," I apologized yet again. I sniffled wetly. Kora, Goddess bless her, just smiled staunchly and drew her handkerchief yet again from her pocket to wipe the mucus from her cheek. It was already her second handkerchief. What a trooper.

"I told you: it's all right, Beka. Now you just drink this down and you'll be better as quick as you please. It's my newest; just came up with the recipe this afternoon." She held a bowl of a vile-smelling concoction to my lips and tipped it, forcing me to swallow or choke. It tasted horrible! I coughed but managed to swallow most of it to satisfy Kora. I wager she left it tasting nasty to get me back for sneezing on her all day, and the days before.

Aniki laughed at the face I made. "Hope you get well soon. All your sneezing is like to blow the roof off." The tall blonde had purposefully positioned herself well out of the range of my snot projectiles. Smart mot. I felt like sneezing on her just then.

Kora reached over to tuck my covers more firmly about me. In doing so, I saw her shawl slip off her shoulder to rest on the covers, stark scarlet against the faded quilt. Kora had bought it 'specially for the Midwinter parties. Aniki had a new jacket as well, soft leather dyed black as ink that shone when the candlelight fell on it.

They were all fancied up because tonight they were going off to the Midwinter festivals, and to one party in particular, hosted by one of Aniki's friends. Ersken and Hilyard and Phelan and Rosto and everyone was going to be there. Everyone except me. I wasn't going because I was stuck with this sarden cold.

Figures that I'd stay healthy all through the blustery, rimy autumn only to catch a cold just as Midwinter was starting. I was missing the week-long festivals! I had been stuck in bed all this time. Just thinking about how much work I was missing, the coin I wasn't making, the festivities in full swing just down the street made me sick _and_ irritable.

"So you're off to the festival, then?" I tried not to pout. I tried so very hard.

"Yes, Beka," Kora looked genuinely sorry. I felt a pang of guilt. It was because of me that Kora and Aniki hadn't been out to the festivals at all yet, even though they were well and could go. It was their first Midwinter in Tortall, as well. They had put off enjoying the festivals to help care for me. (Not that I asked for nursemaids, mind!) I was very grateful. It's just that I was also upset I wasn't better yet.

I had taken off work so that I could stay home and rest, I had drunk all the nasty soups and teas that Kora had poured down my throat, and now it was all for naught, because I was going to miss the fourth day of Midwinter. The fourth day is always the biggest, because it's the longest night of the year. Everyone stays up and eats and drinks and exchanges gifts and it's always such fun. I had my gifts for my friends ready and waiting for the morrow, when we'd exchange them. If I was even allowed to get up out of bed and participate. Not that gifts would matter much if you missed Long Night's grand festivities.

And I was going to miss it. Yes, I'll just be here, in my rooms, alone on Midwinter. Happy Midwinter.

"But don't worry, Master Pounce will be here to keep an eye on you," Aniki was saying. She picked him up from where he lay curled up on my table -smudging my diaries, no doubt- and dropped him at the foot of my bed. He looked at me disdainfully.

_"That is still up for deliberation. If you sneeze on me like you did this morning I will take up residence with Kora indefinitely,"_ he groused.

"That's my cat-" I coughed. My throat felt like it was coated with sand. I hacked, trying to clear it.

"Oh Beka, here, have some more." Kora tried to thrust that evil-smelling foul-tasting brew under my nose for another go. I pushed it away weakly. My limbs felt like they had when I was a puppy, after a particularly bad bout with Ahuda. They flopped back onto the covers heavily.

I forced a smile. "No, it's all right. You two get going, don't want to be late." I made a show of burrowing down in my covers and getting comfortable.

Aniki grinned. "That's it, just keep your chin up, Beka. I'll grab a couple of hot apple-cinnamon turnovers for you on the way back." She blew out the candle in one puff and yanked Kora out. Soon afterwards, the door closed behind them.

All of a sudden my rooms seemed much emptier. And quieter. And lonelier.

I shifted in bed, brushing up against Pounce, who was currently washing himself.

Out the window I could hear the carolers and well-wishers.

Not so alone, then. Or quiet. I rolled over and tried to go to sleep.

...

I don't know how I had thought it was too quiet. There are people out there in the hall, shouting on the landing. Why must they stand so near my door? Don't they know there's a mot what's sick in here? Hmph. I just don't know. Some coves...

* * *

**Rosto**

I leaned against the banister, waiting for Kora to quit coddling Beka and hurry up. Women. Never on time for anything. Take longer when they know they've a cove waiting on them. I blew an impatient burst of air from my mouth, causing my hair to lift up a bit before settling back down. I brushed it back into place.

At last, Aniki came tugging Kora out of Beka's room. Kora closed the door a hair at a time, as if the Princess of the Hundred Mattresses herself was slumbering inside, fit to be woken at the sound of a dog scratching. Finally she turned 'round and adjusted her shawl to the proper drape.

I raised colorless brows. "Now that Her Highness has been tucked in all nice and cozy, can we get a move on?" In the last few days I had become addicted to the Tortall Midwinter festivals. Back in Scanra a festival was the main hall of an inn with spirits, a fire, people, and more spirits. Here, people really went all out with decorations, wreathes, food, candles in windows, well-wishing, spirits, caroling, food, spiced mead- I do love spiced mead. After ten minutes outdoors in this disgusting weather, it's the best thing in the world.

"I feel bad about leaving Beka all on her lonesome, on Midwinter..." Kora plaited the tassels on the end of her shawl.

"Yeah, quite sad about that. She'll be fine, though. Now since you've been cooped up with Cooper and haven't learned the in's and out's of the festival, you should just follow my lead, and I think we should go to Mrs. Asch's first because she makes a _mean_ spiced mead-"

"Rosto."

"What?"

I waited for a response. A look passed between Kora and Aniki. I stood there, bemused. Mots. They had their own language, exchanging information through looks alone. Aniki spoke up first.

"You know, once you've seen one festival, you've seen them all, really."

"Yes," Kora agreed. "It's not like there's any reason to go out tonight-"

"Course there is. It's Long Night. And what's-his-name, Rogers, is having a get-together," I interrupted.

_What were these two driving at?_

"Yeah, but Rogers always has those, and-"

"-You don't really want to go, and-"

"-Beka'd love the company-"

Ah. So that's what it was about. I glowered down at Kora, Mistress Matchmaker that she was - or wanted to be. I turned to glare at Aniki as well. Although merely an accomplice, she was just as culpable.

"Yes, I'm sure Beka would like the company, but she has made it quite clear that she would not appreciate _my_ company. And I'll thank you not to meddle with my love life," I stated definitively. "Or, lack thereof."

Kora frowned and opened her mouth. I cut her off. "No buts."

"Fine, love life aside," Aniki piped up. "Beka's still sick. And it's not right, leaving her to fend for herself while we go off to the festival."

"What d'you mean, 'fend for herself'? She's not going to be attacked by rushers in her own rooms, Aniki."

She narrowed her eyes. The blonde could be damn stubborn when she wanted to be.

"She's our friend, and friends don't abandon friends on Midwinter, of all the times in the year."

Like a mule with the bit between her teeth, she was. Stubborn as all hell.

"We're not _abandoning_ her. We have a previous engagement. It's her rotten luck she got sick on Midwinter-"

"Part of Midwinter is to be close to family and _friends_, Rosto," Kora argued.

"I have no problems with that, so long as the friends aren't sick."

"Selfless cove, you are."

"What? I hate sick people. What if I catch what Beka has? I've only just been made the Rogue, it won't do to come down with a cold."

"You won't catch cold, all you have to do is sit with her-"

"I can't stand being in the same room as people who are ill-"

"_Someone_ has to keep her company-"

"Well, don't look at me." I crossed my arms decisively and tried to look unconcerned and aloof. "I'm no one's nursemaid, especially not some Dog's." And that is that.

Kora's dark eyes flashed. " 'Some Dog's' ?That _Dog_ is _Beka_. And she is sick and in bed and _alone_ on Midwinter, and she's also our _friend_, Dog or no, and d'you know what Rosto? You just landed yourself in the _doghouse!" _She grinned triumphantly at her own wittiness. Not. "Now get in there and keep Beka company or you will wake up each morning for the rest of the winter months nice and toasty with a head full of flames and third-degree burns! D'you understand me?"

I tried to stare her down. I was at least a head taller than her, after all. I am The Rogue, and not one to run away with my tail between my legs just because some mot's given me a tongue-lashing, thank you very much.

"...Oh well all right!" I shoved past them into Beka's bedroom, shutting the door firmly behind me to try and keep in some of my manly pride and dignity. I waited until I heard their footsteps walk away before I moved away from the door.

That Kora. Fiery little mot. ...In more ways than one. I shivered and ran a hand through my fair hair, making sure Kora hadn't set a little spark on me as a reminder. I felt no flames licking at my fingers. Good. I turned around and stopped short as I saw Beka on the bed.

Someone had blown out the candle, but there was moonlight enough to see by. Beka lay sleeping on the bed, her chest rising and falling softly, her face turned toward me. Mithros, but she looked beautiful. And yet, so defenseless as well. Her hair was not in its customary braid, but spilled across the pillowcase in silky coils from her feverish tossing and turning. The moonlight danced along the locks of hair, making them shine. One lock lay draped over a delicate cheekbone. The dark blonde only emphasized the paleness of the skin bathed in moonlight. Two spots of color bloomed on her cheeks, testimony to her sickness.

The icy blue-grey eyes that were all too familiar to me shuttled back and forth under closed lids; she was dreaming. Her long lashes created delicate shadows against the skin under her eyes. I gazed unabashedly, following the curve of her face's bone structure to her lush mouth, parted slightly as she breathed. In a private corner of my wicked mind, I imagined her mouth was open in readying for a lover's kiss. From me.

I let out the breath I had unconsciously been holding, not wanting to break the scene before me. At the minute sound, something at the foot of the bed moved, and I found myself looking into luminous amethyst eyes that were, somehow, amused and accusing, as if it had known what I was thinking. I glared at the cat and made shooing motions with my hands. It merely yawned and stretched luxuriously, kneading its claws into the covers and making cat noises none-too-quietly. At the head of the bed, Beka sighed softly.

I glared daggers at the cat. It would get real daggers in it if Beka really did wake up. I'd skin the damned thing alive.

It seemed to understand my intent, because it decided to retreat to Beka's desk. I was too fearful of waking Beka if I sat down in the vacated spot and the bed creaked, so I brought the chair over from the desk. I settled my weight quietly on the chair, not wanting to wake Beka and ruin the moment.

What moment? A voice in my head interrupted. She's a sleeping mot. Perhaps she's drooling. There is no moment.

...But there was. I always felt my expression grow soft when I looked at her. Not that I let on. Not that she noticed. She's as thick as a brick in that sense. She doesn't seem to realize it herself that there's something about her... that is different... that is special... to me. And it creates something between us.

It wasn't as if we never fought. Oh, we fought. Like alley cats and Provost's Dogs. She infuriated me with her naiveté of thinking the Provost's Guard could solve all the world's ills. The only reason they got anything useful done was because Beka was there.

But then she'd start thinking that she herself could solve all the world's ills, and she'd go gallivanting off on her own, getting herself into all sorts of trouble, and she'd never ask for help, either. Oh no. Beka Cooper never asks for help, has to take it all on herself, no matter the cost. Brawl at a bar? Ten to one? She'll jump right in in the name of her Lord Provost, thinking nothing of what might happen to her. She should be more selfish about what happens to her. I mean, look at her.

Her face was serene in slumber's embrace. I traced her lax features with my eyes, committing them to memory. She was beautiful. She didn't look like a Terrier who would yell at me not to get caught doing something cracknobbed because then she'd be the one to bring me in and she'd make me regret it.

I always yelled back to give me some credit; I wasn't as stupid as Crookshank.

Really, I took it as a compliment. It meant she cared. Yeah, I know, it's obvious it's because we're friends. But sometimes, when I'm back at the Dancing Dove and she's over here and there's not the same living-together bond as there was before, it's nice to have something that's ours alone. Something that says our relationship is different than the ones she has with the other coves. I'd like to have it be different in a very particular way, but she killed that idea pretty fast.

I rubbed my forehead, feeling tired. It was being in a quiet room that did it. In a quiet room alone with my thoughts, and Beka Cooper, The One That Got Away.

I stopped rubbing my forehead, and frowned. That sounded like admitting defeat. Yes, she rejected me, but I didn't hear 'No' coming from her lips when I stole kisses in the days following my becoming the Rogue. Course, I was very intent on keeping her lips preoccupied, but that is besides the point. My offer to her still stands, and I am not just going to wait until she comes to her senses, I will actively force her to understand that she is supposed to be with me.

I glanced at Beka, dozing peacefully, oblivious to my resolution. _And that is that,_ I thought to her silently.

* * *

Author's Note:

I was going to do this entire fic in one long chapter, but since I finished this part and found it was at a good place to stop, I thought I'd just post what's there so far.

Thoughts?


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